


the water's just fine

by lisafrankcave



Series: Body Pillow Fics [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Gender Neutral Apprentice, Heavy Petting, Making Out, Multi, Muriel gets WET, Mutual Masturbation, Other, Outdoor Sex, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Skinny Dipping, Soft Muriel (The Arcana), no size kink, oops all foreplay, pretty vanilla, submissive muriel, very mild manhandling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafrankcave/pseuds/lisafrankcave
Summary: A dip in the pool leads to more.  Muriel is worth the wait.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Reader, Muriel (The Arcana)/You
Series: Body Pillow Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924471
Comments: 4
Kudos: 131





	the water's just fine

**Author's Note:**

> The six "scenes" we were given with the new prints and body pillows have so much potential to lead into spice.  
> credit for the idea of writing fics based on the "scenes" set by the body pillows and prints goes to apprenticealec.tumblr.com! hope I did your idea justice.  
> I will be posting one for each "scene," this just happened to be the first one I finished. It might also be the longest (oops).

Muriel was worth the wait. 

You couldn’t help thinking it, like a mantra, swishing the words around your head like a sommelier with a sip of wine. He was worth the months of traveling, worth the slow burn. Every small step forward was a reward to reap and revel in until the next one, a comfortable space to explore. And Muriel, starved for touch and affection as he was, did love to explore. And yet, you were both content to move slowly, to dip your feet in one toe at a time if necessary.  
How on the nose, you thought, watching him dip his foot into the quiet pool, slow and methodical before submerging it completely.  
Beside you, he looked like art: bare-chested, with flowers woven into his hair. What you wouldn’t give to capture him like this forever: soft gaze, the warm glow of protective magic and ‘no one can find us here,’ one foot casually dipped into a well-hidden pond to test the water. He looked up at you, expression instantly softening, and smiled slightly.

“The water’s just right.” 

Dipping your own toes in, you adjusted easily to the temperature: cool enough to be refreshing, just warm enough to not be shocking. As Muriel shed his cloak next to you, exposing his muscular chest and torso, an idea struck.  
“Muriel, have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

At first, he looked utterly dumbfounded. As the dawning of comprehension washed over him, he huffed and turned bright pink, avoiding your gaze.

“Been a while, but...yes,” he admitted. “Are you asking me to…?”

“Yes,” you replied, eagerly. “If you’re comfortable.”

“...I’m comfortable.” Muriel spoke with confidence; you always seemed to put him at ease.

Clothes were shed quickly but carefully, with Muriel taking extra time to set the clothes somewhere safe, in two neat stacks. Then he turned around to face you, reflexively covering himself before hesitantly removing his hand.  
He was gorgeous. Every curve of muscle was accentuated with faded scars or dark hair, his thighs were delicious, and his ass was maybe the most sculpted you’d ever seen. On top of all that, he had revealed himself to have a dick that could only be described as ‘pretty.’

(And he thought he was unattractive.)

Muriel finally brought himself to look at your nude form, adjusting to it quickly and seemingly becoming more comfortable with himself in the process. His gaze softened, his tense posture relaxing as he approached you.

“Come on,” you teased, sitting down at the water's edge, feet dangling in the mild current. In an act of playfulness, Muriel smiled at you before plunging in. He disappeared for a moment, reappearing with soaking hair, face so close to your legs that you could feel his breath.

“Hurry up,” he panted, “or I’ll pull you in.”

Laughing, you pretended to hesitate for an awkwardly long time. Warm, strong hands gently gripped your thighs, carefully but effortlessly pulling you down. Once you found your footing on the smooth pebble floor of the lake, the same hands found your waist, where they remained. You were close now—very close. Muriel didn’t seem to mind; he pressed his lips to your forehead in a contented smile, then to your nose and each cheek.

“How many times have you been skinny dipping,” you teased him, running your hands over his chest. He snorted in response.

“Alone? Plenty.” He huffed. “It's better with you.”

At that, he pressed his mouth to your forehead once more, content to just stand there for a moment, lips curled upward in a gentle smile. Seemingly satisfied, he opened his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his furrowed brow cautious and yearning.

“Please,” you sighed. 

He kissed you slowly and passionately, one kiss multiplying into many. A lick to his lips and he let your tongue in. He moaned into your mouth, and you grinned against his lips. Bodies subconsciously pressed together, each seeking the other out. Warm hands roamed cool wet skin, wandering ever lower until—

Muriel pulled away first, catching his breath. 

“Wow,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re pretty ‘wow,’ too,” you grinned before chuckling, reaching up to stroke his jaw.

There was no hiding how he felt; he was hard against your skin, you could feel it. Tension clung to every molecule in the air as you both pondered where to go from there.

“Y-you don’t have to—” he stammered, face turning scarlet.

“I have an idea,” you proposed, cradling his face with both hands. He gave you a quizzical look.

“What if,” you continued, “we dry off, and then we can lie down and masturbate together?”

Muriel thought it over and nodded, silently and intently, before asking one more question.

“Can I kiss you while we’re…you know…?” He was blushing furiously.

“Feel free to ask at any point,” you snorted, kissing between his pecs. 

“Okay,” he mumbled into your hair. 

He kissed you again, pressing his body to yours. Calloused hands lifted you off the pebble ground, Muriel continued to kiss whatever aligned with his mouth--lips, chin, neck. The trudge through the water was equal parts hurried and languid; he wanted to linger comfortably on each contact his lips made with you.

Once again you were lifted, back onto the mossy ground and smooth stone of the pool’s edge, the labored movement of trying to stand making you hyper-aware of your own arousal. Muriel lifted himself out, and your eyes glued to glistening muscle, wet hair, his flushed cheeks and chest. His erection was very visible now; you had to tell yourself to keep your eyes on his face, but it was deeply distracting.

The dry-off process was quick; Muriel knew the spell. Once dry, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, delighting in the warmth of his body.

“Do you want to sit down, find someplace comfy?” You punctuated the question with a peck on the lips.

“Please,” he panted. 

“The moss is very soft,” you continued, fingers combing through dry locks of thick, dark hair.

He hummed something in response, green eyes hazy with unspoken wants. Arms wrapped around your waist. His eyes wandered; he was unsure of what to do next. Somewhere behind you, you caught a glance at a massive tree, and stepped forward. Muriel followed your lead, backing up until he tensed up, briefly, at the feeling of ancient bark against the skin of his back. Gently, you pressed a hand onto his chest, pushing him against the tree with a hungry kiss. The soft moan that rumbled in his chest and the way his knees struggled to keep him upright told you all you needed to know.

“You can sit or lay down any time you’re ready.” 

At that, he let his knees give out, sinking down into a seated position at the roots of the tree. You knelt, then sat next to him, giving him a view of your own arousal as you stroked one thigh. Muriel’s eyes oscillated back and forth from your face to your genitals, his erection twitching and stiffening further.

“I-I think I’m...I want to--” he stammered, before concluding, “I’m ready.”

You made a contented noise, making yourself as comfortable as possible, and watched intently as he did the same. Muriel didn’t make a show of touching his own body; instead, he tentatively reached out to touch your thigh, waiting for your nod of approval before stroking it. Green eyes that matched the forest around him took in all of you, face blushing crimson when you started to touch yourself. 

He hissed and tossed his head back when his hand made contact with his cock, other hand letting go of your thigh to grip the moss beneath it. Muriel leaned in close.

“I want to kiss you,” he mumbled, barely audible. 

You obliged him, gently at first and then intense, adding tongue; you moaned into his mouth as you imagined the feeling of his hand in place of your own. Muriel shuddered, gripping a fistfull of gnarled tree root. He was close, dripping a little in his hand. You wondered if he was thinking about you in the same way; the thought of it spurred you closer to your own climax.

“Muriel,” you teased, “Just so you know, I’m thinking about you right now.”

Muriel’s back arched against the tree as his head flew back again. He turned his face to see you, watching as you fidgeted, hands working yourself into bliss.

“I’m close,” you sighed. Muriel could only pant and groan in response, leaning in for a clumsy kiss to the side of your mouth as he approached his own destination.

Eyes closing tight, you saw stars. You reached orgasm at the thought of him writhing underneath you, pinned to the bed and moaning in your ear as you fucked him. As you relaxed against the tree, you realized how much your joints would hurt later. Worth it, you thought.

With one last, beautiful noise, Muriel’s brows knitted as he came, body tensing up before relaxing, limply. The sight of him, panting, flushed scarlet, and sweating, almost made you ask if he wanted a second round. You sat like that with him for several minutes, until the pounding in your chest calmed down and you could move a leg without it shaking.

“How was it?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Muriel looked down at his dirty legs, his stomach covered in cum and up at a twig in your hair.

“Good. But messy,” he deadpanned. “Now I want a bath.”

You laughed, attempting to get up with baby-deer legs, reaching for your clothes.

“Next time, we’ll do it indoors.”

His reaction, the blush and stammer as he scrambled to pick up his clothes, was well worth it.


End file.
